Family Means No-one Gets Left Behind
by SummerSun15
Summary: When Douglas breaks into the lab, Chase is not going to let anyone hurt his family. No matter what.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi :) So I seem to be a roll uploading stuff at the moment, and this story needed to be written. Thanks to LBozzie for A) being awesome, B) getting me obsessed with the show and C) challenging me to write something feels-destroying. And yes, that is a technical term. (I had to change the ending in this story because the one I wrote actually made her scream and glare at me.) If you like Lab Rats, please go and read her stuff. Enjoy! Summer x**

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"Dang it!"

Donald Davenport hissed in annoyance and jerked his hand back as if it had just been shocked by a bolt of electricity.

As a matter of fact, it had. He had confined himself to the lab all day to try and fix his Nimbus 2000 simulator, but that specialised detection panel just _would not go right_. He desperately needed this ready for his next sale, which was coming up in a couple of days and he couldn't afford to miss it. He'd promised Bree that he'd make something that he could eventually donate to ill kids, and he had enjoyed reading Harry Potter with Chase so much it'd inspired him to make his latest invention. Except it wasn't working.

He threw his screwdriver onto his desk, deciding that he needed food before he continued with his battle with tiny inanimate metal objects, and made his way over to the lift doors. Maybe if he was lucky, Tasha might have left some bacon in the fridge for him. Sure, it was a few hours late for lunch, but he wasn't so good at being on time…

He was so engrossed in the idea of a meaty sandwich that he didn't even see the stun gun before it hit him in the chest and the world went black.

-0-

"Nope, I'm not coming to the party. I have work to do!" Chase stood in the living room, his hands held out in front of him in protest. Bree gave him a look that was a cross between amusement and exasperation; Adam just looked vaguely blank.

"This is the best party of the semester! Everyone will be there," she stood with her hands on her hips and her chin jutting out. "You cannot pass this up to do your-" She squinted at his textbook lying on the kitchen counter. "Textiles homework? Since when did you do textiles?"

"Yeah," Adam joined in with a goofy smile, "Since when did you need lessons in how to text?"

Chase ignored him.

"Look, I really to get good at this, and Mr Davenport doesn't have a knitting app, apparently. And cannot see the point in making one, because he's too busy getting his next sale ready."

"Oh, I get it. That new girl takes textiles, doesn't she?" Bree gave a wicked grin. "The really hot one?"

He grinned sheepishly at the floor by way of response.

"Ok, then," She slung her purse over her shoulder and made her way to the door. "We'll leave you to it. Make sure you pick up some… impressive sewing skills."

"See you later, little bro."

"Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"You need your shoes on. Actual shoes, slippers don't count."

"They don't?" Chase didn't even raise an eyebrow at his brother's tone of surprise. "No wonder I've been getting strange looks!" He grabbed a pair of trainers that were sitting by the sofa, shoved them on and sauntered out of the house.

Chase spent the next half an hour trying to understand knitting patterns. Who even wrote a book on this stuff, anyway? More to the point, what kind of girl chose to take classes in it? Maybe she was just crazy and maybe she wouldn't even look at him twice. Then again, his life was so crazy compared to normal people that maybe her being crazy would just let her fit right in. He spent the next five minutes just imagining his first date with her, until Eddie's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Uh, Shorty? I think we have a problem."

"What?" Chase grumbled, irritated, expecting to look up and see his home security system pulling stupid faces at him or something. Instead, the shock of what he saw hit him like a punch in the stomach and made his heart race so fast that for a second, everything felt like it couldn't quite be real. Except it was.

Mr Davenport was slumped in a chair, half conscious, with his hands tied behind his back and a massive bleeding gash over his forehead. His eyes were unfocused and there were bruises up and down his arms. And Douglas was holding a gun to his head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi guys :) So I am completely amazed at how many people have read this story so far, and thank for all the reviews, every time I read them I break out into this silly smile! I really hope you like this chapter as much, and I'm hoping to get the next one up tomorrow! please tell me what you think :) Summer x**

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Chase couldn't quite move fast enough. His senses were in overdrive as he ran straight into the lift, slamming his fist into the button on the wall over and over again until the doors slid shut. And it moved too slowly, far too slowly, when he had to get down there _now_…

He didn't really have a plan. All he knew was that the image of Mr Davenport, beaten and bruised like that, was incredibly, awfully, overwhelmingly wrong. He had to stop it. And that _gun… _He couldn't get the image out of his head.

The second the doors opened he was almost flew across the room with another burst of speed. Douglas was still standing there, aiming at Mr Davenport and grinning as if he was enjoying what he was watching too much to actually do anything else. His brother was straining weakly against the cord that was tied far too tightly around his wrists.

Chase slammed into Douglas with every ounce of strength he had. Owing to the sheer surprise of his attack, he managed to push the man away, the gun firing into the empty space above Mr Davenport's head. Both he and Chase stared at the bullet hole left in the wall for a minute in shock, picturing what could have happened if Chase had been even a fraction late, before his gaze rested on the young boy who just saved his brother's life. He raised the gun again.

-0-

Pain was radiating from his forehead, making his brain pound and his vision blur. He watched as his brother pointed a slick black gun at him, a gloating and slightly insane smile spreading over his face. Seriously, what was wrong with the guy? Sure, he'd always known Douglas was crazy, but he'd never envisioned him actually breaking into his lab, beating him up, tying him to a chair and shooting him. It was like a very poor action movie.

Except, this was real. He was going to be killed by his brother because of some childish vendetta. God, real life could be dull, which was why he'd gone into the inventing business in the first place. He'd done so much, but he had so much more that he could do to help improve the world, and make a couple more million while he was at it. And Adam, Bree and Chase, he would never see them graduate, go to university, complete even more awe-inspiring missions. He pulled against the ropes holding him to the chair with a kind of feral desperation, but it made no difference. Thank God Tasha and the kids weren't here; he didn't want to think about what Douglas would do to them after he finished with him.

And then Chase came racing into view, shoving the younger man aside as he pulled the trigger. He practically felt the bullet as it flew over his head and buried itself into the metal panelling behind him. His heart was racing at the idea of just how close that had come.

And then Douglas was aiming at Chase and something inside of him broke.

"NO!" Davenport screamed, desperately trying to break free from the chair. His brother just laughed.

"Oh, I'm not going to shoot him. Yet. I've got _way_ too many plans for him to get rid of him now." He twirled the gun around in his fingers before turning back to him. "You, however..."

"Don't. You. Dare." Chase planted himself squarely between both men. "You are not killing him. Sorry."

Douglas raised an eyebrow, a move that was infinitely familiar to his brother. The amount of times he had given him that look, and now it was directed at the only other person with the same level of brains as him. He figured that this was probably the strangest family reunion ever. Might even beat the one which involved an old sausage factory and an android.

"You're brave, son, very brave."

"I am_ not_ your son." Chase's body was shaking. "My father is tied to a chair, not pointing a gun at my _face_."

Mr Davenport felt his chest swell with a mix of pride and horror as he watched. He was so brave, but bravery couldn't protect him against a gun-wielding megalomaniac. And right now, neither could he.

"Don't talk to me like that!" Douglas hissed, slamming the gun so hard into Chase's cheek that he staggered back against the desk, an ugly red mark beginning to form. "I am your creator!"

Chase was furious. He raised his head so that he was eye to eye with his uncle, glaring at him with unrestrained loathing.

"No, you are crazy." He stood in front of Mr Davenport again, determined not to let anything happen to him. "Why have you even come?"

"I rebuilt the controls! You know, the ones which will control you? Of course I was brilliant enough to remake them. I wasn't just going to let you stay here, with _him_. You're mine, and it's staying that way."

Chase's mind had no trouble working out the probability of Douglas telling the truth, and having built another way to bend the free will of him and his siblings. Unfortunately, it was quite high. He tried to work out ways to stop him, but that really depended on finding out where Douglas was hiding the remote. It would be much easier if there wasn't one, but this was his insane uncle, so of course there was a remote. And he knew he would have brought it with him to gloat, because that's who he was. Come on Chase, he mentally told himself, you can play to your strengths. Shouldn't be too hard, right?

"You know I won't let that happen, don't you?" Chase's eyes scanned his uncle frantically, trying to see where Douglas had hidden the device.

"Oh, you are good, but you're not that good. Nowhere near as good as me." Douglas had an evil gleam in his eyes. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a slim metal plaque, with one red button in the centre. "This will start the programme, and you know there's nothing you can do to stop it."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi guys :)So I spent about 4 hours writing this one until I was happy with it, so I hope you like it as much. Thank you so much for all the reviews, they're amazing! I'd give everyone cakes or something to say thank you, but I can't so I'll give you a chapter instead :) Summer x**

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The remote. Right there in his hand.

Bingo.

Chase leapt forwards, reaching for the remote and simultaneously kicking Douglas in the shin, only he seemed to be expecting that and jabbed his elbow into the boy's chest, throwing him back at Mr Davenport. He tried to dodge round him again but was kicked, hard, in the stomach. He fell back, winded and breathing hard. What was wrong with him? His martial arts app… was programmed by the man that Douglas grew up fighting. Of course he would be able to predict every move he made.

That was it, then. Statistically speaking, Chase knew there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop himself and his siblings losing their free will. Bree wouldn't see her boyfriend again, Adam wouldn't fondly pick on Leo again, he would never get to impress the new girl with knitting skills. They would just be machines, their human sides would be gone for good. Douglas could literally make them do anything he wanted. He could make them spend the rest of their lives locked up, or fighting uselessly. Oh, God, he could make them hurt Tasha and Leo and Mr Davenport. He could make it so that Chase was the one holding the gun to his father's head. _No_…

Chase dived forwards again, ignoring the app and going on instinct. He dug his elbow into the older man's stomach, ducking under his swinging fist and reaching out to grab the remote. The gun, clutched in Douglas's other hand, slammed into his forehead, sending searing pain radiating from his head and making his body scream at him to stop.

He saw a vision of himself holding that gun.

He stretched his arm out again and somehow, miraculously, felt his hand close around something metal. He grabbed it and twisted until he was facing Mr Davenport, pulled it from his uncle's grasp and slid the device along the metal flooring so that it skidded to a halt by his father's feet.

Mr Davenport crushed it with his boot.

"NO!" This time it was Douglas who yelled the word. He shoved Chase away from him, a crazed look in his eyes. "Not again, not by you! You are not who I made you to be!"

Chase was dizzy, the gash on his head and the bruises on his chest growing more painful as the adrenaline coursing through his body wore off. But he got up on his knees anyway, because he had to answer that.

"You never made me anything. Mr Davenport made all the important things about me."

And then there was a bang, a bit like a shotgun only quieter. Actually, everything got quieter. And more distant, and dreamlike. He could vaguely hear Mr Davenport yelling, screaming something. His name? Why?

He felt his knees give way as the ground rushed towards his face. Distantly, he felt the collision.

Something was very wrong but he wasn't quite sure what. He could see Douglas, pointing at him. No, not pointing, but _aiming_, with wisps of smoke drifting lazily from the end of the gun.

Oh. _Oh._

And then it rushed on him all at once, and it _hurt, _but then it didn't for long because everything faded to black.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi :) I have to apologise for not uploading this as quickly as the other ones, these annoying things called being ill and having a biology exam got in the way, but that's over! So I have a long chapter for you, enjoy :) Summer x**

* * *

Everything was very dark and very still. And numb. Sound came in waves, flowing and ebbing like the tide. He had a feeling he should answer but he couldn't quite figure out how to open his mouth. Or his eyes.

Rushing.

Bleeping.

"Hold on, just hold on."

"What happened?"

"What- Why…"

"Help me lift him up."

"Please, hold on, for me."

"This isn't good. Look at those vitals."

"He needs a hospital-"

"This will do. It will have to do."

"Help! Oh, God-"

"Pass me that-"

"Ok, it stopped."

"Three days? Jesus…"

"He's too pale, too still. It's scaring me."

"I can't stand this."

Their anxious, tormented tones made his insides freeze up with guilt, made him desperate to just get up and tell them he was fine. Only, he couldn't move. So maybe he wasn't fine.

He drifted in and out of consciousness, still unmoving.

-0-

Mr Davenport wasn't really sure what had happened. Somehow he'd got those restraints off and dived immediately off the chair to cradle his son. He didn't know where Douglas had gone, and he really didn't care; his mind was exploding with the image of a bleeding, unconscious, dying Chase.

It was his fault. But he really didn't have time to think about that.

He'd carried Chase into his medical bay, laying him on the bed and hooking him up the various machines that were meant to save his life. He'd built this place only out of precaution, he'd never really expected to use it. And then his medical training had kicked in and he'd gone into auto mode.

And after that, he sat and watched as the machines bleeped and the screens flared up with lights and Chase struggled to stay alive.

Tasha and Leo had come in at one point, and later Adam and Bree, their after-party spirit crushed brutally. They all said something or other. Leo looked like he was about to faint, Adam was doing his best to stop the tears spilling over his cheeks and Bree just held her brother's hand. And they sat like that, for a long time, because there was nothing else they could do.

He couldn't stop thinking _it was all his fault_. All the clichés said you blamed yourself, but they didn't quite capture the _extent_ of it, how it ate you up because all you could do was sit and watch the final product of what was _your fault_. So he went to clean the lab up, and then came back, because there was still nothing else worth doing.

-0-

It was strange, at first. Opening his eyes wasn't even a conscious thought, he just knew he needed to do it. And then he was attacked by bright lights that were really hurting his eyes, and he moaned. And then he was attacked by everyone else.

"Chase!"

"You're awake!"

"Are you ok?"

"Chase!"

"Oh, God, Chase!"

He tried to sit up but something in his side protested violently to that, so he left it. The faces of his family swam into view.

"Hey… What… What happened?" Why did his mouth feel like someone had rubbed it with a mix of sand and nails? It was like he hadn't drank anything in three days. He tried swallowing but nothing happened.

"You… Chase, you got shot." Mr Davenport's face looked haggard and tired, and completely relieved. "We almost lost you."

"Oh." And there wasn't really anything else he needed to say about that, because everyone knew it already.

-0-

He spent the next few days mostly sleeping, drifting in and out of dreams. Each time he woke up someone different was sitting with him; everyone needed to go and get some sleep of their own but no-one wanted to leave him without company.

It was about midnight when he came out of his dream state and had his first conversation with Bree, who was curled up on a chair next to him, wrapped in a blanket and pretending to play on her phone while constantly looking over and checking on him. He'd told her she didn't need to, but she wasn't listening to that. The glare from the screen lit up her face and it took Chase a few moments to realise she was crying.

"Bree, are you ok?"

She sniffed, not looking at him.

"I should be asking you that."

"Seriously, what's up?" He pulled himself up into a sitting position. He'd been able to sit up recently and lying down tended to annoy him.

"I- I'm sorry," she dropped the phone into her lap, not even bothering to keep the façade up now. "It's just… Ever since we left Marcus's base, that's all I've been thinking about. That someone else could control me, and the whole life we've built since we met Leo would be gone. Just like that. And that someone could make me do awful things, could make me hurt people I care about, could make me…" She pulled at the edges of the quilt, staring at them like they were the most fascinating things in the world. "And then, it came so close to happening, and you stopped it. And nearly died doing so.

So, just… Thank you, Chase." She gave him a weak smile. He returned it.

"And please, Chase, you need to talk to Mr Davenport. He won't listen to any of us."

"What do you mean?"

"He's blaming himself."

-0-

Mr Davenport swapped with Bree that morning, taking over her vacated seat. He was carrying a bowl of cereal and a mug of hot chocolate, the smell waking Chase, and set it on the table between them.

Bree was right, he thought as he studied his father's face. The guilt in his eyes was painfully obvious, the number of lines on his face doubled since the time before Douglas had broken in. the enormousness of what had happened hit him suddenly; maybe it was delayed by the shock or something, but now he fully appreciated just how much he had nearly lost. And what would have happened to the people who loved him if he had.

"Hey, Chase, I got you some breakfast," he said, smiling. Or rather, forcing a smile. Chase's insides twisted as he thought about how long this had gone on for without him noticing.

"Hey, thanks," he tried to convey his feelings with a smile, you know, he was a guy and they didn't _discuss _feelings, but it didn't seem to work. He decided to break the rule. "Mr Davenport, are you alright?"

"Course I am." He glanced in the direction of his son without making eye contact. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you're upset, and don't want to walk about it?" Chase knew that if his father had been feeling less guilty, he'd probably yell something about money and then walk out. His silence was almost worse, and he pressed on. "I'm sure the others said this to you and you didn't listen, but you do know this isn't your fault?"

"Chase, it-"

"Isn't your fault."

"But-"

"_Not your fault_."

"You should blame me."

His face said it all. The guilty, crushed expression made Chase want to cry even more than the gunshot wound had.

"I don't. I really, _really_ don't." He looked Mr Davenport straight in the eye. "This is absolutely not your fault. I chose to go down to the lab, and I would choose to do it again, even now that I know the consequences."

"But they could have been so much worse."

"Nothing would be worse than someone killing you, Dad."

And he enveloped his son in a hug, holding him properly for a moment in a way that said _I love you son, you know? Don't forget that…_


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi guys! I am SO SORRY that I haven't updated for so long! It turns out that coursework on top of controlled assessments on top of illness is not helpful when you are trying to write new stuff. I think this is going to be my last chapter for this story, and although this ending was a lot harder to write I really enjoyed doing this :) I hope you like it, and please give me any suggestions that you'd like me to write in the future! I don't know how much time I'm going to have to upload stuff because I have GCSE's looming very near, but I'm going to do my best :) Thank you to my beta, LBozzie, for being generally awesome in every way, and to you guys for reading this and reviewing because that really makes my day :) Summer x**

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"Chase, hurry up! We're leaving in a minute!" Bree yelled to him, banging her fist against the bathroom door. Her school bag was slung over her shoulder and she would have frowned at her watch in mock disbelief if he'd been able to see her. "The bus will be here any second."

Chase, with his toothbrush stuffed in his mouth, made some sort of affirmative grunt sound and listened as she made her way back upstairs. He continued with his morning routine, carefully and methodically, until he was sure she'd left the lab.

Today was his first time back at school since Douglas had broken in.

He was fine with it. He had told everyone he was fine, told _himself_ he was fine… But right now, just before he was about to leave, he wasn't so sure.

What if Douglas came back while he wasn't there? That was the question that he'd been shoving deep into the back of his mind for the last two weeks, hoping that it wouldn't come back to haunt him. It did, though, and it did so at the moment when he needed to just be calm and think about lessons and books and exams and the problems that normal humans had to deal with. He couldn't get that question out of his head.

He knew it was stupid; Mr Davenport had put every new security measure in place to make sure it didn't happen again. There was even a hotline from Eddie straight to everyone's mobiles in case someone broke in. And yet, he couldn't stop picturing Douglas holding that gun to Adam or Bree or Leo instead.

He met his own hazel gaze in the mirror. He thought he looked paler than he had done before, but that might have just been because he was checking for it. His shirt was deliberately loose so that it wouldn't put pressure on the still fresh scar. The stitches had come out a few days ago but the area was still tender, and he rubbed it absent-mindedly as he stared. Same old face, same body (mostly), but somehow different.

Had he changed? Maybe. After all, there was nothing like getting shot to alter your perspective. But then, he wasn't sure how much he actually resented it. He had never worried about going to school this much, but at the same time he'd never been closer to his family. And wasn't that more important? They'd spent so much time together lately, and Mr Davenport had even taken time off work to help him get ready for today. And although he'd been trying to hide it, he'd been more caring and interested towards Adam, Bree and Leo, too.

Upstairs, he could hear Adam stomping around in an attempt to find a matching pair of shoes, with Leo yelling random sarcastic insults in his direction. Bree's light footsteps skittered overhead as she changed her outfit six times over. He knew Tasha would be in the kitchen, cleaning up the typical debris that came with early Monday mornings, and that Mr Davenport would be slumped against the counter beside her, sleepily cradling a mug of coffee. Any minute now, he'd go and join them.

He didn't want anyone to think he'd been panicking. God knows, they'd been too concerned about him over the last few weeks as it was. He wanted things back to normal now. Or at least, as normal as thing could get. He understood enough to know that some things had changed forever.

One day, Douglas would come back. That was a fact, and he could deal with facts. They were solid, truthful, you couldn't mess with them. It was something that he would, in time, be fine with, because there was nothing he could do to change it. And when his uncle did come, his family would be ready. The Davenports did not go down without a fight.

He pushed open the bathroom door, surveying the empty lab. The space where he'd lain just a few weeks ago, dying, was shiny and spotless as if nothing had ever happened. He'd moved back into his capsule a few nights ago and he'd found it hard to stop staring at that patch of floor.

He'd so nearly lost everything. Everything they'd worked for, the whole life they'd suddenly discovered and made their own, would have been snatched from them.

But, it hadn't. He'd made sure of that. And he knew, if any of them were in the same position as him, they would have saved them like he did.

He made his way to the lift, slinging his bag over his shoulder and sighing at the prospect of double sports that morning. Some things had not changed. He'd still be absolutely awful at football, and the jocks would laugh, and then Adam would inadvertently make some crazy comment that would save him from embarrassment. And Bree would literally run rings around them all. Ten minutes into the school day and he knew the last few weeks would feel like a bad dream, even if deep down in the back of his mind he'd still be worrying. But he could live with that.

If he was honest with himself, he didn't mind the worry that came with recent events all that much; it meant he had a family worth worrying for.


End file.
